You Only Had To Ask
by Jackson Hanning
Summary: Arthur Kirkland and Francis Bonnefoy have been arguing for as long as either can remember. Will today be the day Arthur stops lying to himself? FrUK-shot Oneshot


_**A FrUK-shot. Read. Enjoy. I stayed up 'til 12:30am writing this. You had better enjoy it.**_

_**And review me.**_

_**Else my sleep deprivation has been in vain.**_

_**Awh. I'd be staying up this late to write even if I wasn't posting it here.**_

_**Just read.**_

_**And review.  
**_

_**-Jack**_

* * *

"Stop it, frog!"

"Oh, Arthur... You know you like it."

A flirtatious smile crept across the face of the taller man. As much as Arthur hated to admit it, he did enjoy the attention Francis was giving him. Arthur brushed his green-eyed gaze over the man accompanying him. Francis really wasn't that much taller than Arthur, but he was more lean and almost feminine. His form was covered in a perfectly tailored gray suit, and the bright blue of his dress shirt brought out the same blue in his eyes. His blond hair, which usually hung between his chin and his shoulders in waves, was mostly pulled back (except for what escaped from the binding and hung near his face) and a day's worth of stubble covered the lower half of his handsome face.

Oh bollocks. He was in love. It didn't really matter anymore how much Arthur told himself otherwise. Just the sight of the Frenchman set his heart to pounding. Ages of opposition and rivalry and squabbling between the two didn't matter a mite. Arthur Kirkland was in love with Francis Bonnefoy. And there was nothing he could do about it.

"Would you please unhand me?" Arthur shrugged away from the creeping advances of the delicate hand making it's way up the shoulder of the Brit's green blazer. "The others are returning."

Francis gave a haughty sigh and dropped his hand from Arthur's arm, crossing his own arms over his chest in a sort of pout. "Fine then. Deny it." Francis glanced around at the quickly filling conference room before whispering in the Englishman's ear. "You know you want me. And I will be ready when you decide to stop being such a-"

"All right, dudes, let's bring this meeting back to order!" The loud, brash voice blocked Arthur from hearing the last of Francis' whisper. He figured he could fill in the blanks himself. Alfred Jones, host of this month's conference brought the room back to attention. Arthur took a deep breath and tried to forget the tingle he'd felt under the Frenchman's touch.

* * *

Arthur was still organizing his notes after the meeting when an arm draped across his shoulders. By the smell of the designer cologne, he could tell it was Francis without even looking up. "You are coming out with us, oui Arthur?"

"Where are you going?" Arthur remembered almost before he had finished voicing the question. The men had a tradition after their monthly meetings of hitting up a local bar for a few drinks. Arthur hadn't been invited in a while, though. He wouldn't have gone if he had been. He was sick of Alfred and Francis and the others teasing him about his poor alcohol tolerance.

"Drinking of course! Come, Arthur. You must come tonight. It is not an option." Francis continued as Arthur opened his mouth to decline. "I won't let that stupide américain tease you about your drinking, mon amour. I promise." Francis widened his blue eyes in an innocent expression, and made a dramatic show of crossing his heart with one finger.

Arthur couldn't help himself. The Frenchman only had to ask. "All right then. Lead the way, frog."

One corner of Francis' mouth tipped up in delight. He linked his arm through Arthur's before the man knew what was happening. "This way, mon amour!"

* * *

Arthur was a little surprised to be enjoying himself, and it wasn't just because this was his third scotch. Alfred hadn't poked any fun at him. Well, at least not over his alcohol tolerance. And Arthur thought he was doing jolly well in that area tonight, anyhow. He was a bit more liberated, of course. Not that he noticed. What he did notice was Francis. Doting on him, keeping him involved in conversation. His hand was always on him, it seemed. On his shoulder, his arm... at one point his leg. Arthur at that point had simply ordered another scotch and tried not to throw himself at the Frenchman.

"Arthur," Francis said now, his voice low and silky in Arthur's ear. "Arthur... Please tell me the truth."

"The truth about what, frog?" Arthur took another swig of his drink and tried not to shiver at the hot breath on his ear.

"About... us. About your feelings for me. How do you feel about me?" Francis leaned closer, his lips now brushing Arthur's ear. "Do you love me, mon cher?"

Arthur felt his cheeks redden. "W-what a ridiculous question, frog!" he exclaimed. A look of hurt flashed across the handsome French face beside him. Arthur slumped. "Of course I bloody do. I love you. I... I've loved you for a bloody long time, frog."

Blue eyes widened in surprise, as if they hadn't really expected the answer. "You have?"

"Well of course I have!" Arthur was growing a little indignant now. Hadn't Francis been able to tell all along?

Francis slid closer, his whole body but a breath away from Arthur's. "Why didn't you tell me, mon amour?"

"I don't know!" Arthur frowned. "Why didn't you ask?"

Francis, to Arthur's surprise, suddenly grinned. "I know better now, I suppose, mon cher." Francis leaned close and whispered in Arthur's ear. Arthur's face flushed deep red again.

"What do you say, mon amour? Care to join me?" Francis extended his hand, palm up, to Arthur.

Arthur stared at Francis' hand for a long moment. Then he drained his scotch, slammed the glass back on the table, and put his own hand in Francis'. "You only had to ask," he said.


End file.
